Mother and Father
by starseeker
Summary: What if Morgaine told Arthur about Modred earlier? Much earlier?


Mother and Father  
  
Disclaimer--I don't own any of the characters in this story. Marion Zimmer Bradley does  
  
Summary: AU--what if Morgaine told Arthur he had a son earlier? Much earlier?  
  
  
  
I do not believe I have ever been as apprehensive as I am now. My son, Arthur's son, sits in front of me, on my horse, we two riding together as Arthur and I did so very long ago. Gwydion is five years old, dark, and fey- like. He looks so much like Lancelet, I would not have known it was not his son had I not given birth to him. So many things have happened. I am not sure of the ways of the Goddess anymore, she does not make herself clear to me anymore. I don know though, with every fibre of my being, that had I allowed Gwydion to grow and thrive in the house of my Aunt Morgause and her husband, my son would be twisted in the cruelest of fashions. This in no way implies that I myself know what to do or how this will turn out, but I do know that my son, my son is better off in my arms. I am his mother. I am a servant of the Goddess always, but I will not look upon my son as a mistake of any kind. He is mine. The Queen of the Fairies offered to take him away promising things in the future. Maybe I should have left him with her. But no. I have made my decision. I will take him to Camelot, where he will meet his father. His father. He grows heavy leaning against me, and I risk a look down to his now sleeping form. The dark lashes softly brush the tops of his cheeks, his skin translucent, beautiful. I know that gray eyes lie hidden under the lids, and his cheeks red and soft. My heart aches for him, for I do not know how things will turn out. How we will be received. All I know is that there is no way he can be a mistake.  
  
After a day's journey we arrive at Camelot. A knot of apprehension forms within the very center of me, for I know that everyone will be there, waiting, watching, Gwenhwyfar's eyes will be cautious, wary. For I am the heathen princess and must always be watched for devilment. Tell me princess, what will be in your eyes when you look upon my son, looking so much like the man you love, being the child of the one you married, son of the one woman you have need to be jealous of?  
  
"Mother, are we there?" inquires my sleepy-eyed fairie.  
  
"Yes, love. Soon you will be in the presence of the famous King Arthur, and his loyal knights of the round table." Though there is sleepiness there, in his eyes shine a light, and the feeling that I saved him by taking him away suddenly overwhelmes me and I clasp him tightly. "Mother," he squirms impatiently after a moment, his nose wrinkling mock disdainfully at the display of emotion. I sigh and release him. He is a little boy after all. After all the riding we have done he is glad to run about a bit and he does so, stretching his legs in the courtyard while my horses are being put away. I watch him and my love grows. I should not be this way. I should not be so emotional, my training in Avalon has taught me this. But all teaching is thrown to the wind as I watch him play and my nervousness lessens a bit. Then he comes. I see him, a silhouette in the archway of the entrance to his castle, light shining off his golden curls. The same light shines in his eyes as in Gwydion's and I can tell that he is anxious to see me, though he is trying desperately to hide it.  
  
"Sister," he calls, "you have returned after so long." He does not see Gwydion yet, but Gwydion sees him. He is looking at him with a sense of awe and he is blushing slightly. I tell Gwydion the stories of his uncle, King Arthur, and even though he is five, I believe he has already found his hero. Oh, Goddess, if he only knew.  
  
"There is a feast here, and if you are not to tired from the trip, I would be honored if you would come and dine with us," Arthur says, smiling. He tries to hide the pain from me, the eagerness. But I see it all. I see it all in his eyes. Suddenly he takes notice of the small person who has appeared beside me as if by magic. "Hello there," he says playfully "and who might you be to hang on the skirts of the sister of the king,"  
  
"I am Gwydion," Gwydion says solemnly, in a voice not belonging to a five year old. "and this is my mother," Arthur's smile flickers and then goes out. He turns to me and my heart knocks at my ribs. Oh that I should be so foolishly scared would shame my teachers in Avalon! "Morgaine," he whispers softly.  
  
"You....you have a son? Is that why you have been gone from here?" The pain is back in his eyes and in his voice, but before I can say anything our attention is diverted by noises of merriment coming from the hall. When he turns to me he face is carefully emotionless. "You must come and dine with us tonight," He says softly, "And introduce my namesake," And with that he turns and enters the hall again, to entertain his guests. "Something is wrong mother,"Gwydion says to me after he is gone. "I could feel it between you two," My baby. born of royal blood, royal Avalon blood, his gifts already emerge and my heart gives another turn.  
  
Gwydion and I find rooms and I help him get ready for the feast though he insists that he is not a child. I only smile and help him a bit when his hands and legs cannot find the right holes to slide into. I put my hair into braids, as it was in Avalon, and Gwydion tells me that I am the prettiest mother in the world. I thank him and we make our way down the stairs to the dining hall and the Round Table. We enter the great room and suddenly all chatter dies down. I see the faces of the past, some friends, some not friends, all faces have questions on them as I enter the room with my son, small, and beautiful, curly black hair framing his face and his clear gray eyes peering out in awe. "Hello all," I say, controlling the tremble in my voice. "I trust you are all well and good," No one says anything. I believe they are still a bit shocked by my presence and the presence of the small boy beside me. Finally Lancelet leaves his spot at the table and comes to welcome me.  
  
"Your presence has been greatly missed," He says, smiling, though I can see the questions in his eyes as well.  
  
"Surely not everyone here has missed me," I say playfully, knowing full well Gwenhwyfar's eyes are on me. This remark brings laughter and suddenly the air is removed of tension and the feasting begins again. But now, eyes dart to my son, who is taking the confusion like a grown man. He does not cower from the stares and whispers, only stares back with stormy gray eyes. I am so proud of him. though he has never set foot on Avalon, he carries himself as though he were raised there. It makes me worry for him. Finally, Arthur speaks. " This young man here," He says, picking up Gwydion and holding him, "is my namesake and my nephew. I have no doubt that he will soon join us as a knight of the Round Table," There are cheers all around and I see a myriad of emotions flash on Gwenhwyfar's face, mostly envy and anger, for I can see that she has not beared Arthur a child yet. Arthur is playing with Gwydion now, both of them laughing and jumping. I see Lancelet is laughing too, at the antics between nephew and uncle, father and son. It makes me forget my cares for a moment.  
  
As the night draws on, Gwydion's yawns become louder and his head rests on Arthur's shoulder. I see already how much Arthur has fallen in love with Gwydion and I wish that I could guarantee that nothing would change. But I must tell him. I must tell Arthur.  
  
He follows me to my room, Gwydion napping restfully on his shoulder. When we go inside Arthur gently places Gwydion into the bed and instead of leaving, sits on the corner of it, with his head in his hands. For a moment neither of us speak. "He's beautiful," Arthur whispers hoarsely from behind his hands.  
  
"Yes, he is," I cannot think of anything to say, how do you tell someone....?  
  
"He looks just like Lancelet," he says clearly now, and he is looking at me. I know the next question on his tongue. "Is he..."  
  
"No, no he is not Lancelet's son," I say softly. I join him on the corner of the bed and both of us just stare at each other. There is so much inside him, so much that I see, so much he wants to say, It makes me ache for him and I have to turn away from him. "You probably know," He begins, "that Gwen has failed to conceive again," I hear the note of sadness in his voice. "She thinks that it is her, but I think that It could be me," I don't know what to say, how to begin.  
  
"Arthur.."  
  
"He is so beautiful," he says again. "I am envious of the man who could get this gift...and who could have you, Morgaine of the Fairies,"  
  
"You need not be envious of him, Gwydion," I say, calling him his childhood name. "For he....is you," Arthur sits there for a moment, then goes completely still. I realize that I am still too, not even breathing, waiting for him to receive this information. His breathing becomes more rapid and he quickly looks into my eyes. "What are you saying, Morgaine?"  
  
"He is your son, Arthur," I say softly. "He was conceived at the Beltane rites. He is...your son," I do not see Arthur's face because now I am looking at my son. I am so scared, so scared. but I will protect him, I will not let anything or anyone--  
  
"Oh, God" Arthur whispers, eyes wide, now staring at Gwydion as I am. "My...my son? My son?"  
  
"Yes," I say emotionlessly. I do not want to hear what an abomination my son is in the eyes of the Lord so I steel myself for it. But there are no words, only Arthur moving to the head of the bed and gently, heartbreakingly tenderly touching Gwydion's face. He bends down and begins to lavish soft kisses on my son. Gwydion wrinkles his nose in his sleep and Arthur smiles, trying not to laugh. But this means nothing. "Arthur," I say, "I want nothing from you. I know what your kingdom is becoming. This..he is unholy in the eyes of your people. I will not subject my son to this. He is my son and he will become my life. I thought that you should know, but I will not stay here if he is to face ridicule and hatred for being born. I will not stand for it." Arthur looks at me with tears in his eyes.  
  
"My son," he says pointedly. "Will never be the subject of ridicule or hatred so long as there is breath in my lungs," His tone is adamant, steely. "Morgaine, I cannot make you stay. And I cannot promise that things will be calm all the time. But he...he is my son, and already..already I feel something blossoming in my blood, something sharp and new and something I've never felt before. I love you. You know that. I love him. Perhaps that was the something I knew before you even told me, but I would gladly die for him." Tears are running down my cheeks and we both are looking at our child, covered in warm blankets, beautiful and small and fey.  
  
"Morgaine," Arthur starts, "You know how I feel about you--"  
  
"Arthur, " I say tiredly. "I don't think we should get into this right now,"  
  
"Let me finish," Arthur says pointedly. I shake my head slightly, knowing that I cannot do anything but listen.  
  
"You know how I feel about you," he begins again, "and now...this changes everything. Morgaine, even though you don't want to hear it, there will never be another I love as I love you. And we have a child..a child together. If the will of the Goddess were different, we would be married and happy. But you are my sister and things in this world are not as accepting of things that are unexplainable. We will need to think of something, something to say at least until Gwydion is old enough to understand, when things are not as turbulent as they are now. Please do not think me ashamed or embarassed--"  
  
"I think neither of those things," I said softly. "You a wise and capable king. All those worthy of your love should be proud. We will think of something. Now, we are both quite exausted, so I suggest you go to your wife," Arthur smiles at me, gives me a soft kiss on the cheek and then turns to Gwydion and kisses again. "Goodnight," he whispers. "Goodnight....My son," and with that he turns and leaves the room. My body is exhausted. I struggle to keep my eyes open. Finally I collapse on the bed beside Gwydion and my eyes close immediately where I fall into a dreamless sleep.  
  
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Gwydion opens his eyes as soon as his mother closes hers. He can tell she is asleep by the way her breathing is even and smooth. He runs his hands over her face gently and says, "Mama," Then he closes his eyes, dreams of Arthur and whispers "Father." 


End file.
